


Post-Battle Problems (and Pools)

by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)



Series: Dark Matter [15]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Galra Keith (Voltron), Galra Keith is a (literaly) hot mess lmao, Gravity shenanigans, Hurt/Comfort, Keith has a lot of them, M/M, Scars, So Does Lance, Swimming Pools, a hot mess FOR LANCE, broken castle systems, ish, it is Too DAmn Hot, they shirtless bois for a bit but aint doing anything but talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 10:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15411384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F117_Nighthawk/pseuds/F-117%20Nighthawk
Summary: The Castle's environmental controls have taken an unexpected beating and are failing in the direction such things do not normally fail in space. The Paladins are just trying to beat the heat.





	Post-Battle Problems (and Pools)

**Author's Note:**

> HELLo our ac is fuckin BROKE and I am HOT so here have what started out as short klance fluff in a pool that I did not expect to turn into a midnight ramble about scars.

Lance whined as he flopped face first onto one of the common room couches and immediately thought better of it. He managed to roll over and scoot himself into a slightly more comfortable position.

This was momentary, and he shortly ended up splayed out on the floor with another annoyed huff. The couches trapped heat against them, designed for space travel. He did not want that right now. Right now, he wanted the sweet relief of the cold floor.

Sweet relief that it was not providing.

Somewhere above his head he heard a door slide open and closed, footsteps that were deliberately there walking towards his head. A very familiar head appeared in his vision, face as impassive as always.

Lance found himself very annoyed at this fact. The owner of the head had no right to be that unaffected by the current predicament, no right to seem like he was _thriving,_ and certainly no right to have his hair pulled back in a low ponytail that Lance was having trouble not focusing on.

“How are you doing?” the head said.

“I feel like I’m living in the depths of Hell,” Lance grumbled up at him, “Are you just making rounds checking on all of us now?”

The shoulders accompanying the head shrugged. “Hunk and Coran wouldn’t let me help, something about it being “too quiznaking hot in here already, take your furnace of a self away,” so I figured I’d help you guys out.”

Lance crossed his arms in annoyance and immediately uncrossed them, appalled at the amount of heat it trapped against him. “I don’t need to be coddled.”

“No, but as far as I can tell you’re not going to move from the floor anytime soon, so I brought you water and an ice pack.”

An arm waved a water pouch above Lance’s head and he sat up enough to grab it. The owner of the arm set an ice pack down next to him which he also grabbed eagerly, plopping it on top of the tanktop he had somehow found in his drawers. He flopped back down on the ground and sighed. At least _something_ was cold here.

The head moved out of Lance’s line of vision and he had a small moment of panic. “Hey, wait.”

The head appeared in his vision again. “What?”

“Have you been drinking water too? I know the heat really isn’t affecting you as much as anyone else but if it’s too hot for even Allura and Coran then it’s got to be at least approaching too hot for you and I dunno how long you’ve been wandering around the Castle checking on everyone but you should probably take a break eventually too and I just... worry about you, ya know?”

The head finally offered him a smile. “I have a feeling if I sit next to you you’re going to overheat.”

“Then sit on the couch; I’m bored and you need a break. Actually, don’t sit on the couch, those things trap heat like there’s no tomorrow.”

The head disappeared from his vision to the side this time and there was a quiet thud as the owner sat down on the floor. Lance rolled over slightly to face him, eyes wandering to the ponytail again. Distantly he noticed that the other wasn’t wearing his jacket and his boots were haphazardly strapped as loose as he could.

Lance became aware that purple eyes had noticed where his blue ones were and found his face was hot, and not from the current ambient heat of the Castle.

Keith grinned at him and sipped his water pouch. “You’re right, it is a little hot.”

“Where did you even get a hair tie?”

“Allura. She said I looked hot and threw a bunch at me, then went right back to lying on the floor of her room and her book.”

“What about Pidge and Shiro?”

“Pidge is lying on the floor of the....I guess it’s a server room trying to figure out if the environmental control code also got fried. It’s actually fairly cool in there, I think the coolant for all the computers runs on a different circuit. Shiro’s sitting on the observation deck keeping an eye on coolant levels and remote-operating what he can of the bridge while moving as little as possible.”

Lance sighed. “Both those places are probably a lot cooler than right here. What I wouldn’t give for a working pool or something.”

Keith’s eyes bored into Lance for a moment. “What? Do Galra not swim or something?”

“We _have_ a pool.”

“Yeah, one that’s stuck _on the ceiling.”_

Keith’s eyes did an approximation of narrowing, then widened. He _sprang_ to his feet and said “Wait here” before _running_ out the door.

“Stupid Galra heat tolerance,” Lance muttered, but did as he was told.

Not that he was entirely sure he was capable of moving from his self imposed exile to the common room floor, but whatever.

 

Some time that Lance didn’t have any way of measuring beyond “environmental regulators still haven’t been fixed” later, Keith reappeared. He had a grin on his face, what Lance hoped was water and not sweat dripping from his hair as it was falling on his face, and something blue in his hand. It landed on Lance’s face and he sputtered for a moment before realizing it was his swim trunks. “What?”

“Put them on, come on, we’re going swimming.”

“But—but the pool—”

“Is on the ceiling, I know.”

Lance sat up and turned to ask his boyfriend what the hell he was planning, but Keith just dragged him onto his feet and gave him a nudge towards the nearest bathroom. Lance easily gave in, honestly curious if Keith had figured out the pool. A moment later he was clad in just his swim trunks, a fresh burst of energy racing through his veins. He grinned at Keith, who Lance now noticed was wearing his own swim trunks and his shirt.

This was a little odd to Lance. If Keith, as he so obviously had, had just come back from figuring out the pool enough that he was dripping wet, there was no real reason for him to be wearing his shirt. Especially given that even Keith, with his Galra heat tolerance, had admitted the Castle was a little hot. He’d seen Keith wandering around shirtless before, so why was he being self-conscious about it now?

It then occurred to him that this was the first time either of them had ventured to the pool since the day they got stuck in the elevator, well before they’d met the Blade of Marmora and everything that had happened since then. Lance didn’t think he’d seen Keith not wearing a shirt since then. Lance made up his mind to figure out why.

After they got out of this fucking heat. “Race you to the pool?”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you’re not gonna pass out halfway there from heat stroke or something?”

“No, but then my beautiful boyfriend can carry me the rest of the way.”

“Rest of the way to the infirmary, maybe.”

“Well then you just get to patch me up. I call a head start!”

Keith rolled his eyes and jogged after Lance. “Only because without it you’re absolutely going to end up in the infirmary trying to keep up.”

Predictably, Keith got to the pool first. Lance was panting from the heat by the time Keith opened the door in front of him and led them inside. He took a moment to get his breathing under control, sitting on the floor just outside the weird network of pillars that went from the pool “floor” to the actual floor.

“So how the hell are we getting up there?” Lance said, craning his neck up to look at the pool.

Keith grinned at him. “You know all the zero-g training we went through at the garrison?”

“Yeeeeeesssssss?”

“It’s a bit like that.” With that, Keith ran forward under the the pool, but suddenly his feet weren’t touching the ground, he was flying _upwards,_ like gravity acting on him had shifted suddenly. Lance gaped as Keith twisted himself around and ended up executing a simple dive into the pool from what was supposed to be the ground. His head popped above the water again a moment later, followed by a waving arm. “Come on!”

Hesitantly, Lance stood and stepped under the pool. For a moment he was floating in air, the castle’s artificial gravity fighting with whatever was keeping the pool on the ceiling, but then he was falling upwards and he had to reorient his sense of up and down. With a splash he hit the water next to Keith and swam his way back to the surface, breathless and laughing.

“How did you figure that out?”

“Pure accident. I was trying to walk under the pool to inspect what was keeping it up and then I started floating towards it. I thought Hunk and Coran had somehow turned the gravity off before I realized that something else was acting on me and cannonballed into the pool. Built in diving board.”

“Well, that explains why you hair was already wet. How do we get down?”

Keith pointed towards one of the pillars. From this angle, it was clearly a ladder of the sort used in low grav, designed for moving from one plane of reference to another. “Doubt you want to get down yet, though.”

Lance grinned and dived underwater, heading for Keith’s legs. Keith yelped and kicked away from him, which started a game of chase. They wound around the pool for a while, diving for the other’s limbs and swimming away, laughing and teasing each other the whole time.

Eventually Lance managed to grab around Keith’s waist and drag him in, effectively trapping him. “I win.”

Keith twisted around in Lance’s grip. “Alright, I surrender, Ocean Boy.”

“Great! Can I have my spoil of war now?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

Lance’s only answer was to waggle his eyebrows. Keith rolled his eyes, but leaned forward and kissed him. He tasted sweet, like whatever chemical the Alteans used to keep the pool clean, and salty sweat.

When he pulled back Keith was barely able to stand the pure adoration in Lance’s eyes. He felt his face heating up and looked away for a moment, trying to get his face under control. He looked back when he felt a hand on his cheek, turning him back to face Lance. Lance’s thumb was slowly stroking the scar on his cheek. “Oh.”

“Oh what?”

“Is that why you still haven’t taken your shirt off despite the fact it probably isn’t the most comfortable thing to swim in?”

Keith blinked at him, trying to figure out what Lance was referring to, before his attention was drawn back to Lance’s thumb when it stopped. Oh. “I don’t—I” He couldn’t come up with anything else that would satisfy Lance, and settled on a mumbled “Maybe.”

Lance had an unreadable look in his eyes. “Keith, I’m not gonna force you to do anything, but just...I won’t make fun of you for them or anything. You’ve seen the patchwork on my back.”

Keith couldn’t look at Lance. He had seen the lattice on Lance’s back, leftover from the blast way back on Arus, and the scar on his arm, a reminder to not get too cocky, and the one that ran the length of his shin, a dark reminder of the time when he’d been piloting Scarlet.

“It’s not so much hiding them from other people,” Keith sighed, still not looking at his boyfriend.

“Reminders.”

Keith nodded past the lump in his throat.

Lance’s thumb started moving along his cheek again, a reminder of what was there. “You never make any effort to cover this one up.” Lance would’ve thought that one, out of all of them, would be the one Keith wanted to forget existed.

“Little harder to hide that one under clothing,” Keith gave a weak laugh. “I tried once, with some concealer Coran cooked up for me, but it just looked stupid. I can’t really see it myself though, unlike the rest.”

Lance turned Keith’s head so he was looking at him again. “You know what mama always told me about her scars? They’re little badges of courage. They’re reminders, yes, but of what you’ve _survived._ Each scar has a story of something bad behind it that made you a stronger person, made you a little wizer. So maybe, instead of thinking about how this one,” Lance poked the scar on his cheek, “is from your fight with the clone, think about how it means you were strong enough mentally _to_ fight it and _win._ And this one,” Lance’s hand moved down to cover Keith’s right shoulder, and Keith’s eyes followed, “isn’t a reminder of mistakes you made, but of everything you’ve gained as a result of that decision. We’d never have gained the Blade as allies, you’d never have met your mom...”

Lance trailed off and looked away. “Sorry, I guess mama’s therapist training rubbed off on me a little.”

Keith considered Lance’s hand where it was still resting on his shoulder for a moment. He mentally traced the line cutting almost the whole way around his shoulder where the healing pod hadn’t quite managed to heal the damage, a red knot of scarred muscle and skin. He looked at the lines visible on his arms, and the one on his inner thigh, reminders of the same event as the one on his face.

He made a spur of the moment decision and ripped his shirt off.

Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but he could feel Lance looking at him again. “Keith?”

He opened his eyes and managed a shaky smile. He lifted his leg as far as he could without sinking. “This one,” he lifted both arms, “and these,” he pointed at his cheek, ”and this, are all reminders that I _do_ have Shiro, the _real_ Shiro, and that at a moment's notice I have the capability to just reach out my mind and Kuro will tell me precisely where he is, and it will _always_ be him. And this one,” he pointed to his right shoulder, “is a reminder that we have the Blade, and I have my mom, and full knowledge of myself.”

Lance smiled at him. “There you go.”

“And this one,” Keith continued, grabbing Lance’s arm, “is a reminder that you’re still alive, and you always have my back and that we all really should be more insistent on getting you to _pull back_ when you’re injured.”

 _“Me_ pull back? Alright, Mister “runs into half a base’s complement of sentries by himself while injured more times than fit on my hands,” it’s _definitely_ me that needs to pull back.”

Lance was grinning at him, the age old argument one they were probably never going to resolve. (They both knew that they both needed to be pulled back, and knew that they both knew, but it had become a bit of a game to keep that particular argument going as long as they could.)

Keith rolled his eyes but continued. He pointed at Lance’s shin. “That one is a reminder to _you_ that Scarlet always has your back, even when I can’t and Azul can’t. These,” he placed a hand on Lance’s side, close enough they both knew what he was referring to, “are a reminder of your resilience, and courage, and kindness.

“And _these,”_ Keith didn’t aim for a scar this time, simply diving forward with an aim at the bottom of Lance’s ribs, “are a reminder of how _ticklish_ you are!”

Lance yelped and dived away from Keith, laughing. “Round two, Mullet!”

Neither knew how much time passed between then and when they found themselves floating lazily on the top of the pool, discussion of the physics of Altean gravity generators petering off into contented silence.

“Hey, Lance?”

“Mmm?”

“Thanks.”

Lance turned his head and blinked at him. He seemed to sense what Keith was referring to and gave him a soft smile. “Anytime, Mullet.”

Keith was about to say something more when the intercom suddenly clicked on. Coran’s exhausted but triumphant voice filtered through the air: “Alright team! It seems we’ve finally gotten the temperature figured out, and it should be stabilizing back to normal over the next few hours. There might be a few fluctuations towards the other end of the scale, however, so I must request that at least our most cold susceptible Paladin bundle himself up in his room.”

Keith groaned. “But I _liked_ the heat.”

“Come on, Keith, I’ll keep you company.”

 


End file.
